Touching
by onlyacoffee
Summary: Lithuania and Poland haven't seen each other, haven't held each other, in a very long time. So for now, they can't let go.


**i**

Lithuania had never felt safer than the day he finally, finally, after all these years, put his arms around Poland's small waist and put his chin in the crook of his neck.

He almost cried and had to close his eyes to save just a little bit of his dignity when he felt his former partner's arms wrap around him in return and just _squeeze_.

This was what he had been waiting for, Lithuania realized at that moment. These long, long decades spent in the Soviet Union, pressed between Belarus' cold shoulders and Latvia's shaking ones, Russia's eyes on him all the time-

He had missed Poland's warmth, his smell. It wasn't exactly how he remembered it - but then again, he didn't want it to be like how he remembered it. The 20's, then the 40's and the 50's - they were decades long gone, and Lithuania was so profoundly grateful for it. The gunpowder, the blood and the fear were gone, replaced by something sweet Poland had probably bought last time he had visited France in his capital. _Finally_, Lithuania thought-

"Hey Liet."

When he looked up, he could see Poland was tearing up, too. Shiny little drops clung to his pale eyelashes, and the tip of his nose was already red.

He wasn't letting go.

_Finally._

**ii**

Despite the chill of the first days of spring, they stood outside right in front of the door for a long time. At one point, however, Poland had tearfully, jokingly complained about shaking legs and so the two had found themselves inside Poland's house, inside his well-furnished living room, on his stylishly homely couch.

For a moment, Lithuania was amazed how quickly Poland had gotten used to capitalism and redecorated his whole house. It was so, so, _him_, he couldn't help but grin widely at the thought.

Cuddled next to him on the comforter, his head on Lithuania's shoulder, Poland squirmed.

"Liet, let's make a fire."

Lithuania smiled.

"Alright, but you'll have to let me get up."

Poland looked up, lazily. The other side of the room, where the fireplace was, seemed so far away...

He shook his head and snuggled deeper against Lithuania's side.

"Don't feel like it."

To be quite honest, Lithuania didn't either. He just slipped his arms around Poland's shoulders, hoping the warmth he felt at the moment would be enough for the blonde as well.

And at the contented sigh the other nation let out, Lithuania was certain it was.

**iii**

Poland's socks were a pale yellow, with violet and black stripes. The left one had a little hole right underneath the smallest toe.

They were decidedly ugly, for sure, and they certainly didn't keep his feet warm or anything.

So he hid them - pushed his feet until Lithuania was sitting on them.

That way, he could sit even closer, grabbing the brunette's arm and setting his head on his shoulder. It felt right.

Through the window, the sun was starting to set. The light was golden, with hues of orange and pink and looked so inviting against the pale blue sky. Liet's eyes always looked darker -almost hazel- in that kind of light, and Poland suddenly felt the need to see it again.

"Let's go out," he exclaimed. "Let's grab a coffee or something, there's this nifty place that, like, just opened down the street-"

Lithuania nodded, but it took them twenty more minutes to get up, put their coats on and walk out the door.

**iv**

The coffee shop was almost full when they walked in, unnoticed, hand in hand. Right next to the window, with a view on a brick wall and the previous day's rubbish, there was a small booth free, barely enough place for two.

Lithuania and Poland squeezed together in the booth, and ordered hot chocolate.

"We could have made that at home, you know," Lithuania declared. He was sure, not matter what the circumstances were, that Poland had chocolate in his pantry. Sugar, too. Maybe no milk, but water and a kettle could have done the job. The other nation shrugged.

"I, like, wanted to see your eyes, though," Poland grinned. "And nobody cares, so it's way fine. You don't need to worry about it!"

He squeezed Lithuania's hand. Lithuania just squeezed back and politely thanked the young-looking girl who put their mugs on the table in front of them.

**v**

There was nothing good on the television or on the radio that night, but Lithuania didn't feel like going home quite yet. He knew there were things to do, papers to sign, forms to fill out, people to call; but with Poland's arm around his and his breath near his ear, he found he wouldn't care so much if he reported the work a few more days.

Independence wasn't a vacation, he had expected that, but he figured he was entitled to at least a little bit of peace.

Anyway, he wasn't sure Poland would let him go.

"Poland. I need my arm. I have to go-"

"Where?" Poland's eyes were wide, green and suspicious, almost comically so. Lithuania chuckled.

"Just down the hall. I promise, it'll only take a few minutes, nothing more."

With that little frown still digging between his eyebrows, Poland let go of his arm - slowly, carefully, pouting. As soon as Lithuania got up, the smaller nation grabbed a pillow and held it close against his chest. Lithuania sighed.

"Honestly."

He just wanted to go to the bathroom! and maybe take a shower. Brush his teeth. He could do that before Poland panicked, couldn't he?

When he came back to Poland's room, after exactly twelve minutes and seventeen seconds without his partner's touch, Poland was sitting on the bed, legs curled under his body, still hugging the pillow. Lithuania went straight towards him, sitting down and immediately taking Poland's hand in both of his own. Poland smiled and kissed him - sweetly, chastely. When Lithuania broke away, Poland reached over, grabbed his arm and pulled him closer.

"Took too long," he whispered, face buried in Lithuania's shoulder. Lithuania agreed wordlessly and held the other nation, slowly rubbing circles on his back.

They stayed that way, familiar and comfortable, clothed bodies pressed together, for almost fifteen minutes. After a while, their breathing got heavier, sleepier, until Poland put his lips on Lithuania's neck. Lightly, softly but without hesitation, he began to leave a little trail of kisses down his throat.

Surprised but pleased, Lithuania moaned and slipped his fingers in Poland's fine blond hair. He felt the other smile against his skin before he resumed his kisses, hands sliding around Lithuania's waist, under the layer of clothing. Lithuania's other hand cupped the back of Poland's neck, massaging, slipping under his collar to touch the skin of his back.

This wasn't the ending Lithuania had expected to their reunion - it was fast, very fast, it had been too long -

But as he caught sight of Poland's bright red cheeks, his soft pink lips, his green eyes darkening with want and need as he started unbuttoning the brunette's shirt -

Lithuania needed Poland, to touch him, to have him; to read him and learn him again, to leave the imprint of his hands and his lips on the other's body in the same places he had all those years, decades, centuries ago, before the cold and the winds had faded the marks, eroded the feelings.

And he knew Poland needed him in the same way.

Poland's fingertips were shaking, but they were soft as they grabbed Lithuania's shirt and opened it, slipped it over his shoulders and discarded it on the side of the bed. His arms were trembling but reassuring as they came around Lithuania's waist once more, his fingers lovingly tracing the marks time had left on the skin of the taller nation's back. For the first time in decades, Lithuania felt no reason to be self-conscious. With a moan, he leaned into the touch. Poland's lips never left his already sweaty skin, but waited for Lithuania's silent approval before moving smoothly down, to his collar bone, his chest, his taunt stomach, his navel, to the waistband of his trousers.

Lithuania groaned again, moving his hips forward, leaning into Poland's touch, but the move put the blond far, too far, and despite his arousal Lithuania felt a chill. He placed his hands on Poland's shoulders, tugging, asking for the blond's shirt to come off as well.

Within a minute it had, as had his own trousers and Poland's, leaving the two of them solely in their underwear.

It had been so, so long since Lithuania had seen Poland like this - he was struck by how positively good his former partner looked. His skin wasn't unmarked, hadn't been in centuries, but it was pale and soft and Lithuania could have sworn it glowed. Poland had gained some weight since the last time, he looked healthy and right, alive, and utterly, irresistibly touchable.

And so Lithuania's hands touched, they touched everywhere they could - his back, his shoulders, his arms, his chest; his waist whenever he could reach it. Poland's head slipped down, further south, and his breath on the inside of Lithuania's thighs made him painfully hard against the thin fabric of his boxers. Then that lithe, warm palm slipped inside and Lithuania lost the train of his last coherent thoughts; his mind filled with gold and heat, with the light, bell-like laugh that left Poland's lips as the blonde rid them both of their last items of clothing, then lifted his body up against his chest, settling on his lap. He kissed Lithuania once more, long and loving, before finding the most comfortable position and lowering himself slowly on Lithuania's length with a muted, long, breathy whimper.

They moved together, skin against skin, joined again at least, and Lithuania had to bite back a sob of pure happiness as he came, Poland following barely instants after.

Afterwards, once they had cleaned up, they opened the window to let the steam out; the cool wind of an early spring night entered the room; but they didn't care, their arms around each other all the warmth they needed for tonight.

**vi**

The next morning, Lithuania woke up cold. Alone, his mind panicked - had the previous day been a dream? An illusion? Had he taken too much medicine again, was it still winter -

But this room, with its yellow walls and its red armchair, wasn't his. It wasn't Russia's, or even Latvia's - it was definitely Poland's. As Lithuania turned his head to the left, he noticed the bundle of blanket, lightly snoring, curled up on itself, blond hair spread upon the pillow.

Lithuania sighed. Some things never changed, after all, he thought, then reached over to grab a corner of the blankets, carefully slip underneath and hold the still-sleeping nation against his chest. Content and warm once more, Lithuania closed his eyes and fell asleep again.


End file.
